


An Inverted Pyramid

by harshmorninglight



Series: The Umbrella Academy Kink Meme Fills [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Bruising, Competitiveness, Control, Crack Treated Seriously, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Dominance, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gaslighting, Humiliation, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, Marking, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Groping, Objectification, Pseudo-Incest, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Restraints, Spanking, Strangulation, Submission, Teen Hargreeves, Tentacle Creepiness, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-12-26 12:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harshmorninglight/pseuds/harshmorninglight
Summary: A series of basically unrelated one-shots (unless specified as linked in the chapter notes) with one thing always in common - maybe evil, definitely morally fucked-up Hargreeves' siblings finding new ways to objectify, subjugate and/or control an innocent, bewildered, reluctant Klaus.Formerly called 'Just A Touch'.(As always, please heed any tags and warnings.)





	1. Just A Touch

**Author's Note:**

> For the [kink meme prompt](https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=215580#cmt215580): "For whatever reason I just want a lot of Klaus getting groped and felt up by his siblings (can go further than groping but an emphasis on casual touching, grabbing his butt, crotch, chest at unexpected moments). 
> 
> Can be consensual, all of them in a relationship and it's just how they all flirt with Klaus or it could be angsty non-con where for whatever reason his siblings think it's fine to grab his body."
> 
> ***
> 
> This is kind of cracky and very dub/non con. It's basically just PWP of Reginald being evil and Klaus being felt up a lot by his siblings. Short and (not so) sweet. If you made it past the tags yet somehow hate the idea of morally fucked up sexual scenarios, remember: the back button is your safe word.
> 
> Also, this is an AU in the sense that Five remains with the Academy instead of jumping to the future. I like snarky, evil teen Five interacting with his siblings, sue me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which new rules are set, and Klaus has absolutely no say.

It starts, like all things, with Reginald. One day during sparring practice, Five is pissed off because Klaus has for once, after a lot of struggling, managed to get out of his punishing sleeper hold. He sticks out his tongue at Five, turning his back on him to see if Reginald noticed (maybe, just maybe he'll get some praise this time) when he feels a short, sharp pinch to his butt followed by a contented sigh. He yelps out loud, and it's followed by a chorus of giggles from their watching siblings.  
  
Spinning round, he advances on Five furiously. "Don't do that!" he yells, and Five raises an arrogant eyebrow at him which is enough to make Klaus realize he has no chance of besting him twice in a row. "Dad, tell Five not to touch me like that!"  
  
Reginald fixes him with his most fearful glare, and Klaus's stomach sinks all the way down. "Number Four, do NOT tell me what to do. How very dare you."   
  
"But he-"  
  
"Silence, or your disrespect will be dealt with in the appropriate way!"  
  
Klaus feels his eyes tear up, the others still giggling as Five grins like an alley cat at him. "That isn't fair!" he sobs, and Reginald strides over, grabbing his shoulder. This, at least, stops the others from giggling, but it's a much worse feeling that follows as Reginald spins him round, so he can no longer see his siblings.  
  
"Number One, come here," Reginald instructs him. "Number Five, join your brothers and sisters. Well done for your effort today."  
  
Klaus feels a sting of indignation at that; _he_ was the one to win, not Five. Behind him he hears Luther's heavy footsteps but he can't see him approach. He can't see anything other than the wall behind them.  
  
"Number Four, you are too aware of your own body, and that awareness, that  _pride_  you take in your developing figure, is a form of narcissism I will not tolerate," Reginald tells him, the others listening intently. Klaus feels confused at the words. Sure, he's begun to enjoy the feeling of his adolescent body, the way that clothes fall softly over his hips and ass, the secret spot he's discovered inside him that feels wonderful when he hits it with the small dildo that someone slipped him during a fan con, but the others are all at it too. He's walked in on countless masturbation sessions, Allison and Luther pawing at one another, Vanya shyly taking in her naked, curvy form in front of her mirror. It isn't just him that's become aware of the headiness of his own teenage biology.  
  
"Your body is an instrument for the greater good, nothing more. When you can scarcely be bothered to master your own powers, why should you assume privacy from those who are stronger and more advanced than you?" Reginald continues. "Number One, stand behind him. Put your hands on his hips."  
  
Luther's hands are huge. Klaus tries not to shudder as they dig into him tightly, Luther as eager to please as ever. "Does this body interest you, number One?" Reginald asks.  
  
"No," Luther says immediately.  
  
"And do you think this thoroughly uninteresting body deserves any form of privacy?"  
  
"Definitely not."  
  
"How does it feel in your hands?"  
  
Luther falters a little now. "Warm. Soft. But gross," he finishes, desperate not to appear to be enjoying this close contact, even though Klaus can feel the hardness of Luther's cock begin to fill out through their thin training shorts.  
  
"Good, number One. This body belongs to you, and to every outranking member of the academy." Klaus doesn't take long to do the math - that's literally everyone apart from Vanya. "You should never feel shame in touching it. Handling it."  
  
There is a long pause, and something must be clicking in Luther's head, because Klaus starts to feel his hands move, softly cupping the curves of his ass, groping at it the way Grace kneads dough when baking bread.  
  
"Would anyone else like to help me conduct this particular lesson?" Reginald asks, and Klaus glances over his shoulder to see way too many hands up. He glares at them, but Luther sees the movement and painfully pinches his ass. Klaus whimpers, and Luther's cock hardens, and behind him he can hear three sets of footsteps approaching.  


* * *

  
As the years progress, the lesson gets forgotten or dismissed, just like all of Reggie's cracky, weird lessons. But the repercussions of it remain. Whenever Klaus sees one of his siblings, even as an adult, he knows what to expect.   
  
Aged 18, Diego had pulled Klaus's jeans down and they had laughed at the size of Klaus's small penis; after that, they began checking it for 'signs of growth', and so front groping was added to the regular ass swats and pinches.  
  
Aged 19, Allison had twisted one of Klaus's nipples when he'd been singing too loudly, and they'd all fallen apart laughing at the indecent moan Klaus had make, the attention on his nipples going straight to his dick. After that, whenever they wanted to shut him up, they'd pull up his t-shirt, or make him pull it up himself, (" _Don't be lazy, why should we do all the work_?" Five had warned him) and played with them, twisting them, flicking them and sometimes nipping on them with their tongues and teeth, until Klaus was a moaning, incoherent mess.  
  
They still mostly favored his ass, though. Sometimes Luther would grab it as he walked past Klaus, playing with it for a few seconds before wondering off, bored. Sometimes Diego would idly pull Klaus over his lap and play around with it through his pants as they discussed a mission. Five was the worst; he would often pull his pants down over it, peel down the lace panties that Klaus enjoyed wearing, and take his time fingering him. One time he had done that in front of Diego, and the 'session' had ended with two loads of cum over his face.  
  
Now, Klaus doesn't see them as regularly, but when he does he braces himself, knowing what's coming. One time he's high enough to blurt out, "You guys realize I hate it, right? The groping and stuff."  
  
Diego looks at him in confusion. "What? You told us you loved it."  
  
"When?!"  
  
"During the training that time."  
  
Klaus looks at him, aghast. "That was _dad_. He told you to do it to me."  
  
"That's not how I remember it," Diego says. Allison and Luther are for once in agreement with him. Vanya keeps quiet, she was never a part of this weird little social dynamic. Five is the only one who looks like he remembers, but he's got the shit-eating grin he had back then, and Klaus knows he'll be no support.  
  
_This is all your fault_ , Klaus thinks, resentfully.  
  
"So you just want us to... stop grabbing you?" Diego asks. He genuinely sounds concerned, and Klaus's heart beats a little faster. He hates disappointing Diego, who since Ben died, has been the only one who is consistently kind to him. When he's not putting his hands all over him, or rutting up against him, that is.  
  
Klaus looks at the other sets of faces, sees similar looks of disappointment. "It settles me," Allison confesses. "When I need to calm down, grabbing you is such a good distraction."  
  
"Well, thank you for implying I'm like a stress ball," Klaus says sarcastically, and Allison's eyes widen.  
  
"Exactly, that's what you are! Our cute, pretty stress ball."  
  
"This conversation is lame," Five says, standing up. He strolls over to Klaus and pulls him up by the hand. Like always, Klaus acquiesces. "This is your job, number four. Yelping and whimpering like a little girl as we blow off steam." He sits in the chair Klaus was in and swats him on the ass. Klaus, predictably, yelps like a little girl.   
  
"Now get over there and let Diego feel you up like the needy little slut you are. The rest of us have serious business to discuss."  
  
Klaus looks at the expectant faces, sees Diego patting his lap hopefully, and he feels his resolve crumble. He arranges himself on Diego's thighs, wondering where the hands will end up this time, and squirms uncomfortably when he feels a thick finger slip underneath his panties.  
  
"God I could do this all day," Diego whispers in his ear. "Don't scare me like that again, Klaus."  
  
Klaus rolls his eyes, wishing he was better at standing up to them. The next thing he knows, Diego is brushing his sweet spot and he's moaning into his brother's neck as the others start to giggle and make fun of his wantonness.


	2. Game Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Five, Diego and Luther have a slightly less than healthy rivalry, and Klaus's body becomes their board game of choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally posted this at the Kink Meme for my mini Klaus fillathon, and decided to post it here so that all my work is in one place. It feels way too short to post as a standalone, and as it can basically be a sequel to Just A Touch, or at least a fic with the exact same style and kinks - cracky, kinky, objectification heavy, with absurdly mean Hargreeves siblings completely objectifying an innocent and passive Klaus - I decided to post it as a second chapter.
> 
> I've expanded it from the version I posted at the Kink Meme and just generally tidied it up.
> 
> It was based on [this prompt](https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=369948#cmt369948):
> 
>  
> 
> _The brothers love marking Klaus. His skin looks so pretty with their bruises and bites upon it. Klaus doesn’t like their rough and tumble games but he can’t fight back. I’d love it if the brothers are barely interested in Klaus, he’s just the tool they use to show off, like if Diego leaves a pinch mark on Klaus and Five sees, he’ll do it harder, wanting to “win”._
> 
>  
> 
> _I’m ok with it being sexual too, but ok with just physical (with sexual undertones). If sexual, I’d quite like it to be a gang bang, with them trying to make Klaus cum but it’s all for their own egos rather than his pleasure._
> 
>  
> 
> I didn't fulfill the gangbang part as I decided to keep this on the weird side of sexual.

"Who did that to you?!"  
  
Klaus gasps, Five appearing in a sweep of wind from absolutely _nowhere_ , getting onto his knees as he inspects Klaus's hips up close. It's disconcerting, to say the least, going from being alone in the privacy of his bedroom to having insistent, cruel hands grabbing the areas that are meant to be private, but these days he's kind of getting used to it.  
  
"Five, I'm trying to dress, leave me alone!" he whines, attempting to wriggle away, but there's no real effort behind it. What Five wants, Five always gets, and Klaus has learnt over and over that his demands and requests count for nothing when it comes to meeting his brother's demands.  
  
"Number Four," his brother tells him, a warning growl in his voice, "I asked you a question. Who did this to you? Which one of our brothers left a mark here, on your _hip_ , when we're meant to have an understanding that it's arms, legs and neck only?"  
  
Klaus stares down at the purpling bruise in shame. Diego's fingers are long, slender, but deadly, and his favorite trick is marking Klaus through his clothes when nobody is looking. This was a particularly nasty pinch, and Diego has asked (sure, ' _asked_ ') Klaus to see it a few times since, dragging his shorts past his hips so he can admire his handiwork. It's shameful every time, but at least Klaus hasn't felt like had to  _justify_ it, because Diego had been the proud creator. Now, he wants to babble uselessly that it isn't his _fault_ , that Diego had grabbed him before he had the chance to shrink away, that he doesn't want  _any_ of these painful, ugly marks.  
  
"Diego," he whispers, ashamed, and Five lets out a hiss of annoyance.  
  
"Son of a bitch. We're going to have to establish some new rules. In the mean time-"  
  
He pinches his fingers into Klaus's hip, hard, finding enough flesh to pull out and twist. Klaus shrieks embarrassingly high, trying to get away, but Five uses his other hand to grab Klaus's left hip, keeping him firmly in place.  
  
Then Klaus goes from shrieking and whining... to _gasping..._  when he feels Five lean in, hot breath near his penis, before he moves his mouth over the brand new mark, grazing it with his teeth.  
  
Klaus takes it silently, knowing there's no reasoning with the most ruthless of his brothers. Sometimes he can distract Luther long enough to get away, or he can win Diego over by crying, but Five has always been the most single-minded of the Hargreeves' siblings. This is a game, and one he's determined to win.  
  
"There," Five says, his saliva coating Klaus's skin as he pulls away. Klaus immediately feels dirty but he doesn't want to wipe at the mess, doesn't want to touch it. He sniffles miserably as Five straightens up.  
  
"Hurry up or you'll miss breakfast. You could stand to put a little weight on those hips. More to work with." A wink - he seems to be feeling playful now he's got his annoyance out of his system - before he flashes away.  
  
Klaus pulls his scratchy shorts up over his hips, whimpering in pain, before dejectedly heading down to breakfast.

* * *

  
"You broke the rules," Five hisses at Diego. They're in target practice, and Five seethes as he watches Diego's knives hit the mannequin straight in the heart each time, while his own hit different spots sporadically - throwing has never been Five's strong suit - and Diego huffs out a chuckle, his knife hitting the mannequin's hip in a move so infuriatingly smug, Five is tempted to stick the next one in his leg.  
  
"Lighten up, Five, you sound like Luther. There are no rules."  
  
"There's a... a code of honor," Five says through gritted teeth, "And you changed the game. So now, we'll have to adjust."  
  
"What can I say? I was running out of space on his arms, and he's not that sensitive on his legs. I just love the way he shrieks like a bimbo when I go for his hips."  
  
"That _was_ hot," Five concedes, and Diego is the one to look pissed now.   
  
"When?"  
  
"This morning. Before breakfast."  
  
There's a clatter from beside them, and they look over to see Klaus fumbling to pick up his own dropped knife from the floor, wincing in pain as he bends over. Five takes a smug pleasure in knowing it isn't just Diego who was the cause of it.  
  
Diego frowns, Klaus's reaction over the top even for him. "You better not have pinched  _and_  bitten. You know double marking _is_ against the rules."  
  
"I thought you said there were _no_ rules, Number Two?" Five says, a smug smile on his face, unable to resist.  
  
"Fuck you," Diego answers, this time aiming for the crotch of the mannequin, and Five has a pretty good idea who that one was for. He rolls his eyes, holding out his hand in a temporary truce. It won't last, it never does, but this game isn't about getting too crazy; it's just about having fun, making their little annoyance of a brother useful for something, and to satisfy their ongoing competitive streaks even out of training. It's a game they've been playing for a few months now, and it's escalated with time. Now they make sure to use Four's body as a scoreboard at the end of each week, stripping him to his shorts and his briefs as they catalogue his bruises, bites and 'miscellaneous' marks - usually scratches and the occasional slap hard enough to redden but not enough to bruise. The amount of marks get added up, and Klaus has to miserably tell them which one hurts the most. That gets five bonus points.   
  
Five is pretty sure that Sir Reginald knows about their game, from the way he'll sometimes make Klaus hold up his arm for inspection, but he's never done a damn thing to stop it, and Five is, for once, pretty grateful to the old man for not spoiling their fun.  
  
"Are you guys talking about Klaus?" Luther asks, peering over Diego's shoulder to take in his hit rate, grunting a little in envy as he sees the dagger-ridden mannequin. "Why is he limping today? That's new."  
  
"There are some new... aspects... we're going to be implementing."  
  
"And they are?"  
  
Five lets his eyes travel slowly and deliberately over an oblivious Klaus's body, the long legs, pale, pretty arms, slim neck, but more than that, the curve of his ass, the constant movement of his hips.  
  
"Anywhere but his face - father won't like us doing his face, he'll look like a common whore in interviews - is fair game now."  
  
Four finally seems to sense their eyes are all on him, and he looks over with a shy, hopeful smile, green eyes soft and sparkling. God, what a dumb, needy bitch he is, Five thinks, fondly. (He doesn't hate his little brother, in the same way he doesn't hate eating vegetables - they're bland, but they serve a nutritional purpose. Klaus serves... another sort of purpose.)  
  
"More real estate," Luther says approvingly. "Sounds good to me."  
  
"Diego?"  
  
"First one to leave a purple hickey on his ass wins this week's round," Diego says decisively, and Five and Luther shake hands with him. Challenge accepted.

* * *

  
Diego sighs blissfully as he suckles into the pale flesh of Klaus's asscheek. Pinching slim hips warningly, when Klaus starts to drift off on a tangent of moans, he silently reminds the smaller boy to continue with his story of Luther's attempts to get here first.  
  
"He found me during...  _mmm_ , fuck Diego..." (a yelp, as Diego nips with his teeth, not appreciating the bad language), "umm, during break time, and he tried to pull down my shorts but I... I..." He's sounding like the airhead Diego secretly suspects him of being, clearly unable to focus on two things at once - in this case receiving a ten-minute-and-counting hickey on his ass cheek while also keeping up a clear train of thought. "I ran to the kitchen and asked Grace if... if... she wanted a hand... with the washing  _upppp_."  
  
He trails off, and Diego sighs, bringing his finger up to Klaus's hole and rubbing it there threateningly. "Nooo, Diego, please," he sobs, hips bucking, "I can't... I can't..." He sighs with relief when Diego drops his hand, continuing tearfully. "So he... he couldn't do anything... and then he had to go.... with daddy... and I..." He begins to sob as Diego works his mouth harder, making the last part count, "...I came here and then you..."  
  
"Jesus fucking Christ," Five says, from somewhere above them, but Diego isn't quite finished yet, and he's not going to let Five derail his from his task. He chuckles to himself as he thinks about the sight they - well, more Klaus - presents, their lovely little brother on hands and knees, ass up high so that Diego doesn't have to lean his neck too far down. No point putting himself out, when Klaus's body is pretty much theirs to push and pull into place as they desire.   
  
"Please, please," Klaus whimpers, "No more, I can't-"  
  
He already knows what's about to happen. Five rolls up his sleeves, comes round to Diego's vantage point, and drops to his knees.  
  
" _No-no-no-no_ ," Klaus whimpers on repeat, as Five takes his other ass cheek and clamps his mouth to it.  
  
"God," Five says, pulling off after a second, as Klaus's desperate pleas for them to stop get louder, "How can you stand his whining?"   
  
"What the fuck is going on?" a second voice asks, Diego growing in annoyance - _can't a guy give his brother an ass-hickey in peace anymore?_ \- as Luther's heavy footsteps approach. "You little fucking brat, you  _knew_  I wanted first dibs!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Luther, I, I-"  
  
"Number One, if you stick a sock in his mouth, I'll let you have my bacon tomorrow at breakfast," Five promises him, before getting back to the task at hand. Klaus starts pleading, his ass shaking a little as he moves his head from side to side, but soon enough his pleas are muffled as Luther savagely stuffs Klaus full with a couple of clean socks.

A few minutes later, Diego breathes out victoriously, mouth dry and sore, though he knows the result will be worth it. He pulls away with a small slap on top of it for good measure, Klaus shrieking dramatically. 

"Try beating that, big guy," he tells Luther, who hurries around, knocking Five's smaller shoulders sideways as he takes Diego's previous position.  
  
Diego walks around Klaus's body, inspecting the litany of bruises and bites and pinches on his arms and neck, running his hand over each one in turn.  
  
"You do look pretty with these," he tells his little brother, who looks at him with sweet, melting gratitude in his eyes, happy to be praised for something. He's taken by a rush of affection, suddenly, and he leans in to kiss his forehead. Then, he shoves the sock in further, Klaus gagging noisily, before he heads out of the room.

He's confident he's got this win in the bag.


	3. Taking Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the siblings decide that Klaus isn't capable of taking care of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fill for a request that the lovely @mayfriend asked me, for ultra dom Hargreeves siblings controlling Klaus's life, with a healthy dose of humiliation thrown in for good measure. I figured it fitted into this random little series of one-shots pretty darn perfectly, given the subject matter. It isn't intended to be a sequel to either of the previous two one-shots, but if you don't look too hard at continuity, it probably could be. 
> 
> You know that Barbie meme that's like 'Is it crack? Is that what you smoke? You smoke crack?' - I feel like that's this entire fic in a nutshell. It's obviously not to be taken seriously. Please don't take it as a point of reference for navigating a safe and sane D/S relationship. Safewords and kink negotiation are your irl friends.
> 
> Also, I literally have no idea what timeline this follows. To get you up to speed: this is set when they're adults of about 29/30ish. The Apocalypse has been averted. Reginald, Pogo and Grace are all dead/gone but they're all still living at the Academy. Dave isn't in the past, he's in the present, and Klaus has never met him until this fic. (Also: Klave shippers: this really ain't it. Sorry. Maybe one day I'll throw Dave in as an actual contender, but today isn't that day.)
> 
> If you have any other ideas for this series, please let me know. I love writing these dynamics between Klaus and his siblings. It's literally my (un) happy place.

The Hargreeves siblings are all waiting for Klaus around the large dining table. Their voices hush immediately when they hear his feet clattering across the wood-panelled floors, heavier than usual due to the exhaustion he feels at being on them all day, walking from block to block, hundreds of personal resumes stuffed into his weathered linen tote bag.

His heart sinks. _This can’t be good_ , he thinks. _Family meetings are never good_.

Luther is the first to speak, confirming Klaus’s suspicions. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d lost your job, Number Four?”

Klaus looks from face to face, finding no sympathy. Worse than that, every single one of them looks disappointed with him, and he can hardly blame them. Allison had gone out of her way to get him the job in question, and it really shouldn’t have posed a challenge. A goddamn coffee boy on the set of a local soap opera. A dream job, really, for someone like Klaus, who likes to chat, and be around people. A job that requires no discernible talent other than to make coffee, flirt a little, and know when to shut up.

He had no problem with the chatting, and no problem being around the crew and actors. Most of them even liked him. Okay, he still has no discernible talent, that he’s ever been aware of, though he does know how to make a mean cup of coffee, and he certainly knows how to flirt a little.

But yesterday… well. _Yesterday_. He doubts that any of them want to hear _that_ story. And so he plasters on a grin that can only be described as feverish, and presses his hands together in an act of contrition.

“Nothing to worry about, dear Number One. I’m looking for something better paid and more befitting of my talents as we speak. Just came home for a little bite to eat, then it’s back out to pound the pavements all night long. Mind out of the gutter, you filthy bunch, I mean dropping off more of my resume.”

He doesn’t miss the way his voice trembles a little - he hopes that the rest of them do.

“Klaus, it took… _all_ my influence to make them give you a chance,” Allison says. He sees how tired she looks in this moment and he hates himself for it. “You say you want to work, and that’s great, baby, it really is, but…”

“If you’re not doing anything all day, you’re going to slip back into bad habits,” Diego finishes for her. “So consider this an intervention.”

Klaus laughs bracingly at that. “An intervention?! Guys, I’m _fine_. I’ve been clean for almost a year now... Five has got the lab tests to prove it!"

He _wishes_ that was an exaggeration. Five has literally taken to teleporting into drug-testing facilities after hours, learning how to use the equipment, all so that Klaus can piss into a test tube and a few hours later the rest of them can breathe another sigh of relief. Humiliating isn’t the _word_ , but at least it’s keeping his notoriously overbearing siblings off his back. 

Mostly. Reluctantly.

“You’re clean for _now_ ,” Five says, bristling as he’s brought in as a proxy to Klaus’s defence of himself. “That’s what we’re trying to say, you idiot child. Idle hands make for the devil’s work.”

“We’re worried, Klaus. It just feels a lot like you don’t _want_ to do anything productive with your time,” Vanya tells him. Klaus can’t keep up with this many dissenting voices; he hates it when they get like this, all ganging up on him at once, putting aside their personal issues to conduct the one thing they can do perfectly as a team - berate him. He shakes his head, looking from face to face, before putting his hands on his hips in a display of indignity.

“I told you, I’m thinking of going back to school. To study.”

They all exchange exasperated looks at that, and Klaus feels himself closing in on himself a little, becoming smaller. They’ve had this conversation before, but it looks like they’re going to do more than just distract him this time: they’re going to _level_ with him. He feels Allison reach for his hand and he flinches away. “School is hard work. And you were never the most…”

“...academic,” Luther says, dispassionately. Five snorts.

“You were a pain, Klaus. The amount of times Pogo had to chuck you out into the corridor because you were goofing around, distracted? You still have exactly the same attention span, fifteen years later. You’d last five minutes.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Klaus says, his throat feeling thick. He thinks he needs to get out of here, and is turning to leave, when he feels a smooth tubular tentacle wrap itself around his wrist, pulling him closer to the table. 

“Sit,” Ben tells him. “We’re trying to help you.”

_That’s new_ , he thinks. Usually Ben saves the Horror for situations that really call for it.

Weakly, he complies.

“You know, Five is just being his usual dickhead self,” Diego tells him, shooting a glare at the old man, who glowers back in a parody of a teenage tantrum. “But there is a point there, deep down in that scary place he calls a brain. You’re not cut out for education, it’s too… too…”

“Boring. Static,” Vanya supplies. “Klaus, I’ve been there, I know. You’ll be the oldest person in the room, surrounded by teenagers who just want to get drunk and high. You’ll be struggling to adjust, and it’s a _lot_ of pressure to stay focused, meet deadlines, and last out each semester.”

Klaus nods, feeling deflated. If they all think it’s a bad idea, even Vanya, then it most likely is. Sometimes he flicks through course syllabuses, applications for even the most rudimentary of foundation courses, the words blurring on the page, words he can’t actually understand despite his vocabulary always being something he’s taken pride of. 

_You could never do that_ , he tells himself. _Everyone in this room worked it out before you._

He sniffles a little, wiping at tears, and he sees Five next to him rolling his eyes. On the other side, though, Allison puts her arm around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Tell us what happened. Why did you have to leave the job I got you?” she asks. He’s about to bullshit his way out of it when she seems to notice the uncomfortable shift in his emotions; she whispers in his ear, “I heard a rumor you told us the truth,” and he sighs miserably. Allison is meant to be abstaining on rumoring, following a growing dependency on it once she finally got her voice back. But on Klaus? Apparently, “ _i_ _t doesn’t count_.” 

“Some guy corned me in the restroom. I don’t know his name, he wasn’t normally on set. An executive producer. Big and sweaty. He grabbed my ass under my skirt and tried to finger me. I yelled at him, called him a dirty pervert, Harvey Weinstein’s less attractive cousin… then I chucked coffee in his face. Security frogmarched me out pretty quickly.”

He presses his face into Allison’s shoulder so he doesn’t have to take in their weary expressions. “So... that’s, what, my third job that’s ended up with me being chucked out for being a mouthy little tease? I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I _am_ trying.”

There’s a long silence, before Diego says, “I’m going to kill him. Just like I killed the others.”

“Yeah, I know,” Klaus replies softly. He can’t even bring himself to feel flattered by Diego’s protectiveness anymore. “But that still doesn’t solve my problem.”

“Come back on missions with us,” Luther instructs him. “We’ll get you trained up, properly this time, and-”

Klaus shakes his head adamantly. _No no no_. _Please God no._  

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Ben says, finally helping him out. “Look at him, he’s terrified. He’s an easy target for kidnappers because they’ve all established by now, he’s not a fighter. And he certainly doesn’t need more ghosts following him around, tempting him back into addiction, now he's finally learned how to block them out when he's relaxed.” 

Klaus thinks there might be an insult in there, but Ben’s words serve his purpose, so he keeps quiet.

“Then what, Number Six?!” Luther continues, annoyed now his single-minded, mission-focused energy has been scuppered. Klaus shrinks back a little. “What are we meant to _do_ with him?”

Ben can’t answer, because he doesn’t know, and Klaus can’t help him. Apparently he’s too dumb to study, too well known throughout the city as an ex junkie hooker to find a job, and too terrified and kidnap-worthy to be of any assistance on missions. 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t _know_.

Surprisingly, it’s Vanya who suggests it, the first time. “Maybe we just need to do a better job of taking care of him,” she murmurs, her eyes flashing icy blue for a split second. Klaus notices, but he’s not sure anyone else does. A shiver runs down his spine. “There are six of us. How hard can it be?”

Klaus feels Allison’s fingers stroke gently against his face. She makes a _hmm_ sound, tracing his mouth, smiling a little. “I think that sounds like a good idea, sis.”

When Klaus looks around, none of the others are coming across as particularly averse to the suggestion. In fact, the words appear to have had a calming effect on the room. Even Five shrugs, face lightening, as if to say, _That’s not the worst suggestion I’ve ever heard_.

Klaus decides it’s in his best interests not to argue. A little bit of extra attention from his siblings, giving up some of his free time, having to trail along while they run errands, or updating them on what he did with his day... just until he can find a job that doesn’t involve him spreading his legs in some dark little backroom? It sounds like a doddle. A homerun. He smiles, indulging them with his acquiescence, as they begin to discuss semantics.

 

* * *

 

When he sleepily heads down to the kitchen the next morning to make himself some coffee, he’s immediately accosted by Allison who drags him from the table to the fridge with a determined skip to her step; he looks at her blearily and she beams back at him, gesturing to some sort of poster that wasn’t up there yesterday.

“I think this is really going to help you, Klaus!”

He rubs at his eyes and takes it in with increasing nervousness. He can see various household chores on the multi-columned wipe-clean grid, can see ‘Days Sober’, can see room for meal tallies, glasses of water. So far, so ‘ _Allison is a control freak_.’

But… when he looks even closer, he realises it gets worse. Little personality reminders: ‘Thoughtful’, ‘Smart’, ‘Polite’, ‘Co-operative’. 

Most sinister of all: ‘Punishments Accrued’, and a much smaller space for ‘Rewards Accrued’.

“Is this… is this a behaviour chart?” he asks, dumbstruck. “Did you steal Claire’s behaviour chart for me?!” he squeaks, his voice becoming higher with each passing syllable.

He yelps, more out of surprise than pain, when he feels a large hand hit him upside the back of his head. “Use your manners, Klaus. Your sister spent all night making that for you.” Luther, never a morning person, reaches over him to click on the coffee machine. “Claire doesn’t need one because she’s a good kid.”

“Only because she’s been rumored into being a good kid,” Klaus mutters under his breath, immediately receiving another slap from his much bigger brother. “Ow!! Joke! Can’t anyone take a joke around here?!”

“You’re a visual learner, Klaus. You always have been,” Allison presses on, ignoring the brotherly spat. “This is going to help you to see exactly what you need to be focusing on. I even found stickers: green for good, red for bad... but I can get you some sunshines and rainclouds from the stationary shop if you’d prefer?”

“I’m good, Alli,” Klaus says sarcastically. “Red and green are just _peachy_.”

He sees a telling glimmer in his sister’s eyes and can’t help thinking that she’s enjoying this,  beautiful sadist that she is.

No sooner has he sat down with his cup of coffee, Vanya deposits a big plate of pancakes, layered high with maple syrup, in front of him. He looks at her painfully, and shakes his head.

“You know I don’t do breakfast, Vee.”

“You do from now on,” she says. She uses all of her 1.55 metres to level up to him and it would be cute if he didn’t know what she was capable of. “You’re too skinny. We’ve all agreed.”

“You can talk, Miss Tiny!”

“This isn’t open for discussion, Klaus.”

His stomach churns; it’s not that the breakfast doesn’t look good, it’s that he’s _just_ woken up and it’s barely settled from the routine nightmares he has to contend with now the drugs don’t hum him gently to sleep. He wonders when Vanya found her fighting spirit - probably sometime around going all _White Violin_ , killing Pogo and burying Grace - and as he stares into her flashing eyes he knows he won’t find any give or take there.

“Okay,” he says, hoping to play for some time, to settle his stomach a bit. “Let me just finish my coffee and then I’ll get right on it.”

“You switched that to decaff, right?” Vanya asks Luther, who grunts in confirmation. Klaus’s jaw drops.

“I’m not even allowed _caffeine_?!”

“It makes you too hyper,” Luther tells him. 

“And ten gallons of sugar dumped right over these pancakes _won’t_?!”

Luther pinches his nose, making a show out of sighing like a beleaguered grizzly bear. “If you don’t shut up and eat your breakfast, I _will_ gag you for the rest of the day, Number Four.”

Klaus looks over to the behaviour chart nervously, wondering if that’s one for the Punishments Accrued. He decides not to find out. With his stomach protesting miserably, he shoves a piled-high spoonful of pancakes and syrup into his mouth.

 

* * *

 

He folds like a deck of cards by lunchtime. 

Vanya pops her head around the door, informs him she’s making him a sandwich with _all_ the trimmings, and he just nopes the fuck out of the house, breathing a sigh of relief when he eases himself silently out of the front door.

He even dances a little dance down the path as he makes his way out onto the busy street.

It’s a nice day, and he heads straight to the closest park, because where else would an unemployed ex junkie with no current employment prospects spend the day? He’ll give out some more resumes later, he promises himself, once he’s had time to relax. For now, he feels like he’s earned this briefest of reprises.

Once grey sidewalks turn into lush green grass underfoot, he crosses to the lake, his favorite spot, and wastes some time feeding the ducks that are flocking about lazily on the banks, or cooling off in the shallows nearby. He slips them the sticky leftover pancakes that he’d hidden in his pocket at breakfast, hoping to _God_ this won’t kill these poor, appreciative fuckers, before leaning back and letting the cool breeze rippling over the water find him on the banks. 

“You can teach me a thing or two about relaxing on my lunch break,” a deep voice greets him, and he looks over to see a smartly dressed man (which follows, as the park they’re in is situated right next to the business district of the city), sitting on a bench a little way from him, coffee-to-go in his large hands.

“I wouldn’t know,” Klaus says. “I’m a lady of leisure.”

“Ah. Rich hubby spoiling you rotten?” It’s a borderline homophobic comment, but there’s a twinkle in his eye to suggest he’s not being assholish as he says it.

It’s... a nice twinkle.

He thinks about his brothers and sisters, who are definitely rich, but emphatically _not_ married to him (thank _Christ_ ), and he cringes a bit. “Not exactly.” He tilts his sunglasses up, appraising the suit the man’s wearing. It’s a really good suit. It probably cost a lot of money. “I’m trying to find a job, as it happens. Know of any… _openings_?" 

Klaus has to try really hard not to speak in innuendos, constantly, and sometimes it gets the better of him. Now, it’s the man’s turn to appraise _him_. 

“I think you’d be a little too, uh, colourful, for the firm I work at.”

“A life without colour is no life at all,” Klaus says mournfully. The man laughs, agreeing.

“I can’t give you a job, but I can treat you to a drink, perhaps? Tomorrow’s Friday, right? Let’s say 9pm at Darcy’s, on Sixth.”

“Do they do mocktails?” Klaus asks automatically, relaxing a little when his (admittedly very,  _very_ handsome) prospective date nods without judgement.

“They’ll do anything you want, beautiful.”

The man slides off the bench, crouches down beside Klaus on the bank, and tucks his business card behind his ear. “I’ll give you this, if you want to cancel. But… please don’t cancel?” he says, all strong, manly jawline and endearingly crinkly blue eyes and attractive, measured vulnerability that makes Klaus's heart flutter in his chest. He lets out something between a giggle and an ‘I won’t’. It comes out as _awon_.

Mr Blue Eyes laughs, a very deep and infectious laugh, and Klaus wonders, as he watches him walk away, whether this is what normal dating feels like.

It’s… kind of nice.

He looks down at the card and commits the name and number to memory. _Dave Katz, Attorney At Law._

 

* * *

 

“Oh, you are in the _deepest_ shit,” Ben tells him gleefully when he gets back home. “Allison and Vanya have been pacing the house like pissed-off mama bears.”

“What?!” Klaus says, panic bubbling inside of him, even though he’s not quite sure what he’s done wrong. “I haven’t even done anything, Ben! Help me?!”

“You’re on your own, bro. I got you out of coming on missions, therefore my lamp has been thoroughly rubbed for the week. Anyway, this shit is _hilarious_.” He’s about to leave the room when he remembers something. He turns, his grin widening. “You had a few calls this afternoon, about jobs. I heard Diego tell each one that you weren’t interested anymore.”

“What?!”

But Ben is gone, and in his place he can hear Allison stomping in, followed by Vanya’s lighter, but no less determined, footsteps.

“My favorite sisters!” he says, plastering on his most winning smile. “Don’t you both look… charming?”

They both look, in fact, furious. Klaus shrieks when Allison grabs him by the ear, frogmarching him through to the lounge, where she flings him down onto the sofa. He’s much taller than her, has been for years, but she has a way of making herself look twice as intimidating when she’s around him.

“Where did you go?” she asks, arms folded in front of his chest. “And, obviously, _I heard a rumor_ that you’re incapable of lying to any member of this household ever again.”

He’s a little alarmed by that: he really hopes she agrees to lift it later.

“I went straight to the park, to feed the ducks, and then I headed through the meatpacking district, delivering more resumes. Do you want, like, an address-to-address breakdown?”

Her eye twitches.

“I was making you lunch. Why didn’t you want to eat your lunch?” Vanya cuts in. Klaus throws his head back on the sofa dramatically.

“Because, Vanya, I felt physically sick after that enormous breakfast, which I couldn’t even finish. And I feel like at the rate you’re feeding me, you’re going to make me gain weight, which is honestly a… a whole _thing_ for someone like me, with self-esteem issues, particularly self esteem issues related to the way I look, given I had to make a whole _living_ out of being desirable to men.” 

_Jesus Christ on a cracker, fuck Allison’s rumors_ , he thinks to himself miserably, as he lays out his rich tapestry of body concerns like he’d lay a table for Thanksgiving.

Vanya’s face drops, her disappointment clear, and Allison lets a dark rumble of annoyance slide under her tongue.

“ _I_ _heard a rumor_ that you were always hungry when one of us cooks for you. _I heard a rumor_ that you never refuse food that Vanya, or any of your siblings, want you to eat. _I heard a rumor_ that you want to put on some weight because you understand you’re currently under what your body should be. _I heard a rumor_ that you find every type of food we give you absolutely delicious.”

“Oh my _God_ , Allison, this is literally insane!” he finally explodes. _Literally screw her_ , his mind is yelling at him. _She can’t do this!_ “You’re not meant to be rumoring anymore, and yet you’re just… just giving them away like free candy right now! I’m allowed to make my own decisions about when and what I eat. I didn’t sign up for _this_ level of micromanagement.”

He’s not sure if it’s Allison’s rumor, the one about him needing to tell the truth, that is inspiring this level of attitude from him, but it feels good to finally get it off his chest, so he continues with righteous indignation. 

“And in fact, if I want to spend the afternoon going out, trying to get a job, which I thought was the whole _point_ of this weird little game of mommies and daddies that we’re playing right now, I don’t deserve the third degree as soon as I step foot in the house!”

“It’s time for you to stop talking, Klaus,” Vanya says coldly. She nods at Allison, who is bristling with indignation.

“ _I_ _heard a rumor_ that you can’t move _any_ part of your body for the next half hour.”

Klaus is staring up at her dumbly as she says it, mouth wide open. Realisation dawns on him: he can’t even press his lips together. Can’t even blink.

_You absolute fiend_ , he thinks.

“Call the others,” she tells Vanya. “It’s time we set some ground rules for this brat.”

 

* * *

 

It takes about twenty minutes for the remaining four siblings to be located, and they’re just drawing up the title (Diego insisting on writing the title in the 3D font he practiced relentlessly as a teenager during group projects) when Klaus finally feels his fingertip twitch. He decides not to alert them immediately, and instead listens as they come up with the first rule.

“Permission to leave the house,” Allison says. Ben looks at Klaus and winks.

“Why stop there? Permission to leave the room.”

“Is that manageable, really?” Five huffs. “Seems like a lot of effort for such an easily trainable sub.”

“An easily trainable _what_?” Luther asks, clueless, and Five rolls his eyes.

“A submissive, Luther. Klaus is someone who prefers to submit. He doesn’t always realise it, because like you and Diego, there’s not very much going on in that head of his. Unlike you and Diego, however, he definitely seeks comfort from someone else being in control."

“Hey!” Diego growls, finally catching up with Five’s insult, and Klaus seizes on the interruption to make his own small protest, a small, annoyed _pff_ under his breath.

Five snaps his fingers, pointing at him absently as he stares down at the paper. “We can all hear you, bimbo.”

Something hot and red presses at Klaus’s cheeks. He can’t bring himself to argue.

“Okay. Compromise. He needs to ask permission if attempting to do anything that’s not on the list of pre-approved tasks,” Ben says, bringing their attention back to the large paper they're pouring over. “That list can be… sleeping, obviously. Using the bathroom to relieve himself, but _not_ bathing unsupervised, I’ve literally seen a ghost try to drown him before. Um…”

“ _Um_ ?” Klaus finally explodes. “Do ya need some help populating that list, Benny Boy? Because I can think of _hundreds_ of things I should be allowed to do without-”

“Allison…” Luther begins, and Klaus’s eyes well up with frustrated tears. _Fuck my actual life_ , he thinks, as he sees them sharing exasparated glances at his newest display of emotions. He tries to get a hold of himself as Allison opens her mouth to rumor him, and he hits on a moment of inspiration.

“You can’t keep using her against me! You all said you were concerned she was using too much. And she’s said herself, the more she uses, the more she _wants_ to use. Think of another way, asshole, because I _don’t_ want to see my beloved sister staging some sort of bloody coup for world leader status, all because you allowed her to use me as her gateway drug.”

_Ah-ha!_ he thinks, when Allison falters, voice fading off at the ‘I’ part of the sentence as the implications of his words sink in. _And Five thinks I’m not smart_.

He’s promptly cut down to size when Luther lurches to his feet, grabs him by the hair, and unties the scarf around Klaus’s neck. Then he forces open his mouth with one large paw and shoves the scarf inside, yanking Klaus’s head to the side as he ties it at the back..

“ _Mmmph_!”

Then, to add insult to injury, he brings Klaus over to the meeting circle they’ve formed, and sits him at his feet, like a child brought into a board meeting by his multitasking working mum.

“ _Stay_ ,” he warns, and Klaus flips him the bird. He receives a slap upside the head for his trouble.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Ben says, a shit eating grin on his face, and Klaus hisses at him, “Can we think of anything else he doesn’t need to ask permission for?”

“I mean, I guess stuff like sitting, standing? You know, general body movement?” Diego struggles, finally giving an _I’m done_ shrug. “I’d prefer to err on the side of caution.”

_Do you even know what that expression means, Mister Stab First, Ask Questions Later_ , Klaus tries to impart on his big brother with his wide, expressive eyes. Diego ignores him.

“Answering the door?” Five asks.

“Might be a kidnapper,” Ben answers.

“Answering the phone?”

“Might be a pervert.”

“Household chores!” Allison says. “He doesn’t need permission to complete his household chores. They should be completed, regardless.” She looks obscenely pleased with herself. Klaus’s _mmph_ is a little smaller this time. There truly seems to be no point in protesting right now.

“Fine. So we’ve got… sleeping...” Diego starts, before making the addendum: _bedtime to be agreed in advance_ . “...using the restroom but _not_ bathing. General practical movements like sitting and standing. Household chores. Anything else?”

“Speaking?” Vanya asks quizzically, and they all laugh as if that’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

“If he has to ask for permission to speak, he’ll never speak again. Sounds great to me,” Five says, eyes shining maliciously. Klaus flips _him_ the bird now, which makes them shine all the brighter.

“I guess he can speak,” Diego sighs. “We can always gag him when he’s being mouthy. Good shout, by the way, Number One,” he says, indicating the scarf shoved in Klaus’s mouth. 

“You know there’s an easier way,” Ben says, suddenly. They watch as a few tentacles work their way out of his stomach, Five whistling lowly when one eases around the back of Klaus’s head and tears the scarf away. 

Klaus sees immediately where this is going, and in his brief moment of reprise, utters, “Oh, come _on_.” Then, before he can protest any further, another tentacle is in Klaus’s mouth, pressing to the back of his throat.

On instinct, and possibly also not to choke to death, Klaus starts to suck.

“Well, it’s more fun for him, I guess,” Five says, obscenely miming a blowjob with his hands. Klaus is trying to wriggle away when another tentacle wraps around his ankle and snatches him up, away from the group, before curling around his waist.

Out of sight, out of mind. Klaus tries to get used to the _utterly_ weird sensation of being (surprisingly gently) held hostage by a cluster of sentient tentacles, bobbing above their heads like the world’s weirdest helium balloon, as his siblings move onto the next rule.

 

* * *

 

“Diego?” Klaus asks quietly, at dinner. “Can I-”

“No talking at the dinner table,” Luther says gruffly, and Klaus rolls his eyes. This is a rule that nobody has adhered to since Sir Reginald kicked the bucket, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to be made to stick to it when he already has so many others governing his life now.

Diego is looking at him questioningly, and he uses it as an invitation to continue. “Can I just ask… why did you reject the phone calls I got this afternoon? About… about employment?”

Instead of looking sheepish, Diego’s face relaxes a bit, which Klaus doesn’t think is a _great_ sign. “Because, Klaus, they all sounded like gross skeezes.”

“How can you tell that from their voice?!” Klaus groans.

“Don't raise your voice, Klaus,” Allison warns him.  

Klaus feels tears at his eyes and he swipes at them angrily; when his vision unblurs, he’s at least gratified to see her and Diego looking a little guilty.

“I can’t sit by and allow you to be… m-molested by some random creep again, Klaus. I just can’t,” Diego tells him, and Klaus feels his stomach squirm in guilt. “If that makes me the bad guy, I’m sorry. But I’m fielding any job offers from now on. And if it ain’t some perky white lady named, I don’t know, Susan, working in HR or whatever, they’re not making the cut.”

Klaus has no argument. He continues to shovel the meal Luther made - some sort of tuna pasta bake with a base that tastes suspiciously like the freeze-dried crap he used to eat on the moon - like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten. Which, it kind of is, because apparently _any_ food that they cook for him now is the most delicious food he’s ever eaten, following Allison’s rumor frenzy.

The others are all pushing theirs around their plate delicately, apparently trying not to throw up, apart from Five and Diego who simply voice out loud how inedible it is.

Klaus sighs out loud wistfully, and eats another huge mouthful, smacking his lips together pleasurably. Luther, at least, softens up to him for the night because of it, and even fights for Klaus to sit on his lap during movie time, instead of on the floor or in the Horror’s eager chokehold.

It’s kind of nice, the big guy’s arms around him, stroking him to sleep. _Maybe Luther will be my new favorite brother_ , he thinks smugly, as he sees Ben and Diego flashing jealous glances from across the room.

Really, though, he imagines it’s Dave holding him, in those strong, sinewy arms, rippling through his expensive suit. He sinks into a blissful state of fantasy and stays there for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

Luther must have carried him to bed at some point, because he can’t remember getting to it. The next thing he’s aware of, it’s the morning, and he’s weirdly had no nightmares (and come to think of it, no ghosts since yesterday, either), but the short, angry teenage body currently rifling through his closet is doing his very best to negate that.

“Five,” he croaks, “What are you doing?”

“We’re going grocery shopping. There’s no food in the house, at least nothing edible, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to eat any of Luther’s freeze-dried protein crap again.”

“Oh.” Klaus blinks sleepy dust from his eyes. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re going through my closet.”

“Picking out your own clothes is something you need permission for, remember?” Five reminds him. Klaus sighs heavily. “And if you’re coming with me, I don’t want you to embarrass me with your emo junkie hooker schtick. Ah-ha!” He drags an item from the hanger; a pretty lace summer dress that Klaus usually wears with a biker jacket and big clumpy boots. He gets the impression he won’t be able to accessorise it quite so dramatically today. “This will do. And put some makeup on, your face looks haggard.”

He flashes out of the room, and Klaus childishly mimics, “ _Your face looks haggard_ ” at the space his much older brother once occupied.

Nonetheless, he does what he’s told, eager to avoid his first infraction, and as he’s reaching for his makeup bag, a card falls out.

It takes him a few seconds to remember where it came from, and then it all comes back at once. 

He’d hidden it yesterday before dinner. Dave. The handsome guy with the great job and the expensive suit and the kind blue eyes who… who is expecting to go on a date with him. Tonight.

He squirms a little on his bed, willing his stomach, and cock, to settle.

Objectively, he knows the answer to his request will be no. As soon as he tells one of his siblings what he’s planning on doing, they’re going to flat out refuse. He has a curfew now, set for six in the evening, not that they’re planning on giving him permission to go out on his own all that often. Yesterday he’d come home to a reinforced window, and a bedroom door that locks from the outside - sure enough, when he tests it now, it’s bolted shut, and there’s absolutely nothing he can to open it. 

But… he wants to see Handsome Dave again. A lot. He thinks there might be something there that Klaus has never had much of a chance to experience before. Something… sweet. He isn’t sure, but he’s willing to risk another sanctimonious Hargreeves’ family intervention for a shot at it. That’s for damn sure.

If he can get through the grocery shopping with Five, get the old man to lower his guard, he should be able to escape. So long as he’s clever about it. There’s no point running from Five, because of the whole pesky teleportation thing, but Five isn’t omnipresent; he doesn’t know how to find someone who has hidden themselves well.

And once he’s shaken off his annoying (but also kind of terrifying) older brother, he can just make himself inconspicuous for the rest of the day, hide himself out in some inattentive hipster coffee shop until it’s time for the date.

Humming giddily to himself, he makes himself up nice and pretty, not for Five’s benefit, but for Dave’s. 

_Fuck that little asshole, Five,_ he thinks. If he wants him girly, he’ll go _super_ girly. He even paints his nails a sweet rosy pink, and brushes out his soft curls. The dress is a little tight as it goes on, but that’s fine; it cinches in at the waist, creating the impression of hips, which normally Klaus hates, and seeks to cover with a drapey coverall of some description. Today, though, he decides to own it.

Vanya comes to let him out of his room for breakfast. She takes him in with a wide-eyed look that reminds Klaus of the sweet kid she used to be, before she almost destroyed the world.

“Wow.”

“You like it?” he asks, fluttering his long, mascara-coated eyelashes. “Five picked it out for me.”

“So you’ve decided you’re going to behave for us?” she says, in a voice that _definitely_ doesn’t remind him of that same sweet kid.

He takes her hand tentatively in response, knowing that if he answers, he won’t be able to lie. She seems satisfied with it, thank _Christ_ , and leads him down to breakfast, where the piled plate, and his watchful siblings, are waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

He can feel eyes on him throughout the meal, Diego staring open-mouthed, Ben for once without his characteristic smirk, even Five looking appreciative of his appearance. Then Diego - of _course_ \- almost ruins it by saying, “I don’t think he should go out like that. He looks too…”

“ _Respectable_?” Five snorts. “You’re only saying that because I picked the dress out for him and not you.”

“He’s got too much makeup on!”

“He hasn’t got _enough_ on, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Men are going to be staring at him.”

“Men _always_ stare at him. Besides, I’m with him, you think I’d let anyone steal him from us?”

Klaus finds that an odd choice of words. Not: _you think I’d let anyone hurt him_? _You think I’d let anyone take advantage of him_? Nope. Five seems to be thinking only in terms of possession, and it creeps him out a bit, especially as nobody comments on the sentiment.

“Do you like it? This… _look_?” Diego asks him, not, Klaus thinks, because he actually cares, but because he’s still hoping to win the argument he’s found himself in.

“I do, actually,” Klaus says, looking down at himself shyly. He feels pretty, and he can’t remember the last time he felt really pretty. “It’s not my usual style, but I’m getting used to it.”

“You’re just lying to annoy me,” Diego accuses him. Allison coughs guiltily.

“He, uh, can’t lie. Not anymore. Not to us.”

Diego bristles with annoyance as Five shoots him a shit-eating grin.

“You better make sure nothing happens to him, or I will dismember you, one teenage limb at a time,” Diego warns him, waving his butter knife threateningly. 

Klaus bites back a laugh. If his plan works, and he peaces out of this supermarket visit on a brave dash for freedom, he’ll not only get to have a date with the most handsome guy he’s ever seen, he might also destroy Five’s credibility within the household ranking. Two birds, one stone.

For once, he’ll be the stone.

 

* * *

 

Of course, he has to endure the supermarket itself first, at least until he has an opportune moment to slip out of Five’s hawk-like gaze. And _oh_ , what an endurance it’s turning out to be.

Five marches ahead of him with the trolley in between white knuckles, barking out orders at Klaus who is trying not to look too ridiculous as he totters behind him on his daintiest pair of shoes (a pair of pretty nude kitten heels), frequently having to reach down to the lowest shelves to pick out the most expensive, organic brands Allison and, weirdly enough, Five insist on. He’s fairly certain Five is enjoying this, not by the tone of his voice, which remains as disdainful as always, but by the pitch of it; louder and more theatrical than normal, inviting fellow customers into this fucked up display of dominance.

“If you _will_ insist on wearing your most impractical footwear to the supermarket, this is what you’re going to get, airhead,” Five drawls at him. Around him he hears snickers of laughter, and he hurries up his stride, trying to prove he can walk in them, which leads to him stumbling, reaching out to the trolley handle for balance. Five glares at him, shaking his head, as he puts a hand around his waist to steady him.

“You really are a hopeless case, aren’t you?”

“No?” Klaus says sullenly. “I’m doing everything you asked for, _Five_.”

“Then bend down and pick that up for me,” Five responds, pointing down to a bottle of hideously expensive balsamic vinegar that’s worth more than Klaus’s entire outfit. “Come on, we’re in a hurry.”

Klaus shoots him his most withering look as he shakes Five off to bend over, tugging at his skirt hem so it doesn’t rise up. Then he drops the bottle in the trolley with a flourish, but he totally misjudges the height as he’s doing so, and it falls to the bottom of the cart with an alarming _crack_. Klaus’s face pales as Five peers under the trolley to see the broken glass container trickling black syrupy liquid onto the aisle floor.

“Oopsie,” Klaus giggles nervously.

“Oh you’re really in for-” Five begins, before some redneck in a MAGA hat pulls up alongside them, not even looking at Klaus’s face, just leering at his figure. Klaus feels himself tense up as a large hand presumptuously rests on the small of his back, just above his ass.

“Son, you just go right ahead and call the shop assistant. I’ll help your pretty mommy here get her cart straightened out.”

Klaus hates how terrified he feels, not knowing where this sudden helplessness when it comes to leering, predatory guys has come from. After all, he’s seen, heard and,  _hell_ , definitely experienced so much worse. 

But since his siblings started pointing out to him just how often he’s been taken advantage of by men, he’s come to dread each potential encounter, when previously he’d have just laughed it off. He remembers Ben catching them up to speed, after he came back, about  _just_ how many men Klaus has had, just how many have choked him out, spat on him, strangled him, fingered him, stripped him... on and on, all without his permission. He remembers their faces - horrified, then furious, then accusatory... and usually at Klaus himself. For being so stupid, for putting himself in that position, for letting people he didn't know take what didn't belong to them.

Back in the Bad Days, it felt like nothing. As routine a part of his life as eating and drinking and sleeping. Now, it feels him with fear and shame.

Five, to his credit, doesn’t continue his rant. Now, he has a new victim in his sight, and he squares up all of his particularly unimpressive height to the redneck, his expression darkening in a way that genuinely terrifies Klaus

The redneck, however, merely chuckles. _Oh, big mistake_ , Klaus thinks, a little concerned for this idiot, despite himself.

“Aw, I get it, little guy. Not too keen on fellas like me checking up on your sweet lil' mommy, huh? Well, I won’t bite. Unless she asks me to." 

“Did you actually look at my _mommy’s_ face?” Five asks. “Or has your disproportionately tiny hand on her ass got you too distracted?”

The redneck inclines his face to the left, scans Klaus’s face - facial hair included - for the first time, and gawps.

His skin, previously pink and clammy, now turns a startling shade of fuschia, the sweat beads on his forehead springing forth with abundance. Klaus shrinks back, knowing what’s certain to follow; a punch, usually, or sometimes just ugly words thrown with such a cacophony of hatred that it scars Klaus in a way that physical violence never would.

He thinks maybe Five sees Klaus’s expression - the sheer terror twisting into him, making him recoil - because the guy has barely formed his hand into a fist before the psychotic little assassin he calls his big brother has teleported up to the side of the trolley, using it as a springboard to wrap his small hands around the thick neck, squeezing hard.

“Don’t you _ever_ look at him like that, you disgusting piece of shit,” Five is telling the man, his voice a low, warning hiss in his ear. “Don’t open your mouth to speak to him, don’t  _think_ whatever ugly thoughts are in your head about him. And definitely _don’t_ put your filthy hands on his body. Because he belongs to me, and I _will_ fucking kill you for touching my possession.”

“Five, stop it!” Klaus whimpers, kind of pathetically, trying to prise the deathlike grip from around the fat neck of this homophobic asshole. But Five doesn’t relent, not until the guy’s knees have buckled, and he’s slumped on the floor, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

To Five’s credit, he lets go just before the man passes out completely. He pulls away with a shakeout of his hands, and they both watch - Five objectively, Klaus in horror - as the asshole finally draws air into his bruised windpipe, stumbling to his feet and down the aisle like a kicked puppy.

Klaus looks at Five, who goes up on tip-toes to wipe some eyeliner away from Klaus’s cheek. It’s such a tender movement that it makes Klaus’s heart flutter a little, in stark contrast to the heavy beating it’s just taken. 

“Time to finish up,” Five says, suddenly coughing uncomfortably. “You think you can go another ten minutes without wiggling your ass at the nearest hick who eyes you up, bimbo?”

Klaus nods, and follows Five in silence, obediently placing the items in the trolley without any further commotion. By the time they get to the check-out, and the cashier coos at Five for being such a strong _man_ of the house, Klaus has decided that he can’t skip out on this weird, fucked-up, but ultimately unconditional love, for a guy that will probably be just like all the rest. 

He smiles at Five as sweetly as possible, as they leave the supermarket, and Five slaps his ass and tells him to get a wriggle on, in return.

 

* * *

 

Days turn into weeks, and Klaus’s life falls into a pattern (not an _easy_ pattern: his siblings, by sheer force of personality alone, never make things _easy_ ) of total relinquishment of control. The behaviour chart fills up each week, thankfully more good than bad, he’s eating three square meals a day, drinking eight glasses of water, getting his daily workout through yoga (at Allison’s behest) and cleaning (at everyone’s behest), and in the moments when he gets time to himself, usually just before his head hits the pillow and he falls into a dreamless sleep, he fantasises about Dave, though he knows the opportunity to be swept away by this particular handsome stranger is long gone.

He’s completely blindsided, therefore, when a family meeting is called; he’s not expecting to be the subject of it, he’s been _so_ good, but then he sees a familiar looking card in Diego’s hand and he feels himself begin to tremble.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Diego spits out hatefully, and the sound of it slices straight through Klaus’s barriers. He immediately feels tears at his eyes. “What, are you conspiring against us, Klaus? Trying to paint us as bad guys for giving you the care you need?”

Klaus blinks, trying to work out what he’s saying. Five uses his silence to embellish, stomping over to Klaus and crouching down so his face is inches away. “An _attorney_ ? After everything we’ve done for you? You’ve made me feel like an idiot. I was even starting to feel some _affection_ for you, you little traitor.”

And suddenly it dawns on Klaus what they’ve assumed. He gasps, shaking his head. “That isn’t…” He’s cut off when a tentacle slips around his back, whacking him across the face, before shoving itself into his mouth. He brings his hand up to rub at his inflamed cheek, eyes wide in terror, and further tentacles wrap around him until his whole body is rigid, and he’s unable to move.

“You belong to us,” Vanya tells him, and he tries to communicate with his eyes that he _knows_ , that he’s been trying _so_ hard, and that they’ve got entirely the wrong impression. But nobody is seeing his eyes, or if they are it’s through red, angry lenses. They only seem to feel disgust at him; it radiates like a force.

He looks to Ben imploringly, wriggling as best he can, begging him silently to release him. Ben’s face is pulled into a dark frown, so different to all those years he was a ghost, when he supported Klaus through thick and thin, always with a quick jibe and a quicker smile.

Klaus feels another tentacle wrap round his neck, beginning to squeeze. Hot tears spill down his cheeks as his head begins to droop, his mind becoming light, fuzzy, high in a way that the drugs used to take him.

He hears voices around him, muffled, as if underwater. There’s a darkness chasing him, and he tries to run from it, but he can’t bring his legs to move. Slowly, slowly, he turns to it, trying to swallow his fear and face it.

He thinks maybe he sees lights. Sunlight. He smiles up into it, ready.

Then he’s back in the parlour room, gasping in air, his breath returned to him, as the tentacle around his neck slackens, and the one in his mouth retreats. He peers over to see Ben whimpering, his face ashy, as Diego lunges for him.

“You tried to kill him!”

“You cut my _tentacle_ off?!”

Allison is forced to rumor them to stop, after Luther’s valiant efforts to keep them apart fall flat. Klaus stares at Ben’s limp tentacle, already beginning to reform and heal, and he feels as disconnected from his siblings as that tentacle probably feels from its cluster. 

He doesn’t understand what just happened. Ben tried… tried to _kill_ him?

“I _didn’t_ mean to kill him,” Ben finally explains, when Allison rumors him to explain himself. Klaus feels himself shaking with relief, though he knows it isn’t over. “I was just so… so _angry_. Not even with him. With anyone who would try to take him away from us.  It was like... I thought he was better off dead then not with us, because I know he'll never survive without us. Honestly, Alli, I just saw red.”

Klaus manages to speak through the pain of his bruised, purpling throat, trying to ignore the creeping, residual voice telling him: _W_ _hat Ben just said is so fucked up, bro_. “It isn’t what you think. I wasn’t… that wasn’t why I had the card. To, like, sue you, leave you, or whatever the hell you think I’m plotting.” He sighs, wishing he didn’t have to admit this. “The guy on the card, Dave. He asked me out on a date, a few weeks ago. That’s all.”

Five makes a disbelieving snort. “Some rich attorney asked _you_ out? Likely story.”

“I can’t lie, remember?” Klaus reminds him, feeling a little indignant that this is apparently so hard to believe, even though as he explains it he realises it actually is, because, after all, he’s _Klaus_. Nice guys just aren’t interested in him, and he was a fool to think they ever could be, “I was in the park feeding the ducks. He was on his lunch break. Our eyes met, we quipped back and forth a bit… you know, all that good stuff. It felt very romantic at the time, it really did”

They all exchange looks, concerned, and he sighs deeply.

“I know, okay? I know now he's a sleaze, like most guys, and that he was interested in me for one thing only. I know I’m not loveable and that people like me don’t get meet-cutes in parks, and that if I’d gone for that date, it probably would have led to me being bent over a dumpster, having sex with some rich asshole who wanted to try out a genuine slut. It’s just… sometimes it’s nice to have a little fantasy, you know? That’s why I kept the card.”

His bottom lip is trembling and he hates himself for it. 

“Klaus, baby, we don’t think you’re unlovable at _all_. We just think that this world is full of assholes, and you’re too fragile for it,” Allison tells him softly. “You were never like the rest of us. You never developed a taste for killing. And that’s okay. But it means we have to put certain measures in place to protect you. For your own sake, but-”

“Also for our own,” Vanya finishes. “You’re ours. We need someone to care for, otherwise we lose ourselves too easily. And you’re just… so _perfect_ for it. So sweet and stupid and pretty and silly and...”

Her voice is almost hypnotic; Klaus finds himself nodding in agreement, as she continues to list all the ways he’s their perfect possession, despite the insults peppered liberally in there.

“With dad gone, and Pogo, and Grace, we need something to bring us together,” Allison says. “That’s you. You’re the one thing we can all agree on.”

“I am?” he asks, oddly flattered. 

“Well, yeah,” Ben huffs, rolling his eyes. “If you didn’t notice, the rest of us are usually conspiring to bring each other down, climb ranks, backstab, just generally revel in subterfuge. And if we’re not doing that we’re cutting off limbs,” he says pointedly, glaring at Diego, who looks back at him with defiance, “or threatening to. This world’s a dirty place, so we’ve got to be _filthy_. We need you to temper us, bro.”

Klaus’s heart feels like it might burst in gratitude. He grins up to the heavens. “Take that, dad! That’s what you get for calling me useless.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” Five mutters. “You’re still a dumb little slut.”

Not even Five can bring him down right at this moment. Klaus blows him a kiss, and Five makes a face like he spat at him.

“So what do we do about the card?” Luther asks, a little too eagerly. “He still kept it a secret, after all, and he definitely doesn’t have permission for secrets.”

“Immediate sanction; withheld pertinent information carries five infractions,” Ben says.

Klaus begins to shiver throughout his entire body. It’s his first actual punishment, as he’s been so good these last few weeks; he’s only notched up three infractions in total since the chart was created. “Guys, come on, it was a simple mistake, a-”

The Horror has apparently reformed all of its tentacles in time to gag Klaus again. Another two bend him over at the waist, a fourth one pulls his skirt up, exposing the cherry red lace panties that Diego bought him a couple of days ago.

“I want to go first!” Diego says, sounding like an excited little boy. Klaus tries to whine in protest around the tentacle in his mouth, disorientated by how quickly this has happened. _Fuck my actual life_ , he thinks, but it’s a little more fonder and more resigned than usual.

The tentacle has to withdraw quickly from his mouth when Klaus attempts to bite down on it, following Diego’s savage first slap to his ass.

“Numero uno,” his big brother says, rubbing his hands together, before cracking down a second time. “Dos!”

“How many do we get each?” Klaus hears Luther ask Allison.

“I don’t think we decided. Shall we say… seven? It’s a good number.”

“A great number,” Vanya agrees. 

“And look, he’s even got some padding on his ass now to withstand it,” Five remarks, pinching at the fat that most certainly wasn’t there before Vanya decided he needed plumping up. His older brother whips his hand away before Diego inflicts a third spank to his reddening cheeks.

“Please, guys, that’s enough!” he sobs. “I’ve learnt my lesson!”

“You want to rumor him, Allison?” Luther asks. Allison smiles, reaching forward to stroke his hair.

“I kind of like hearing his silly little screams.”

Afterwards, when they’ve all had their fill, and Diego is rubbing cold cream into his throbbing behind with a bit too much force to be considered gentle, he hears Five admit that it’s the best family bonding session they’ve had in a while.

A tentacle snakes its way back into his mouth and he sucks on it absently, realising the sensation is intended to calm him down. He throws a grateful look at Ben, who gives him a thumbs up and says, “Proud of you, bro. You took that like a champ.”

The words make Klaus’s cheek colour in gratitude, and he realises in that moment, he doesn’t even care anymore about this dumb fantasy of handsome attorney Dave Katz sweeping him off his feet and falling in love with him. Like _that_ could ever happen for a ridiculous airhead such as himself.

His siblings are right, as always. They’re the only ones who will ever love him, and despite the pain he’s in, he’s grateful that they care enough to give him what he needs. He begins to doze off as Diego kneads at his ass, and the Horror works itself gently in and out of his mouth. 

The world around him all becomes a little less complicated, and he accepts it with a small, breathy sigh.


End file.
